Elira stared at the photograph of Adriana, her pulse racing through every hollow in her chest. The dim light of the study cast jagged shadows across Damian’s face as he stood beside her, hand trembling around the edge of the desk.
She looked up, voice tight. “Who is she?”
Damian’s mouth twisted. “My sister.”
Her breath caught. “You never mentioned a sister.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Because I thought she was dead.”
Elira’s mind spun. “Dead? How?”
He swallowed. “Car accident. Twenty years ago. When we were kids.”
She studied the woman’s pale face, hooked to machines, and the tubes in her arms. “Why is she alive?”
Damian ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I thought she died. Mom told me she died.”
Elira turned the photo over in her hands. The handwriting was unfami
